


'Ere Our Souls Ground To Dust

by Llama1412



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Coffee, Established Relationship, Fights, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Suicidal Thoughts, Withdrawal, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29753832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: After Nilfgaard conquered the continent and deigned to let Temeria be self-governed, Roche finds himself drowning in work trying to build a new government and keep an economy afloat (well, more get it back there for some parts of Temeria). Meanwhile, he and Iorveth were managing to live a fairly domestic life together. It had only been a few months, but it was going well.Then they have their first fight. Over coffee, of all things.
Relationships: Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	'Ere Our Souls Ground To Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags! I'm venting some of my recent issues with suicidal ideation onto Roche. If you're not in a place to handle that, please back out. I'm starting to do better, though, so I hope you get there too.
> 
> Posted unedited at 2 in the morning, because I gotta focus on working tomorrow and I don't wanna.

Roche hadn’t meant to start a fight with Iorveth. He really hadn’t. But he was up to his eyes in paperwork trying to run a Free Temeria under Nilfgaardian oversight, and he’d had a terrible time trying to sleep and it was too goddamn early, but he needed to get started as soon as possible, and  _ there was no coffee. _

None. Roche checked every single cabinet in the kitchen of his and Iorveth’s house. Nothing.

“Iorveth!” he called, a note of panic in his voice.

Iorveth yawned, wandering into the kitchen in a pair of slippers and Roche’s robe. “What?”

“Where’s the coffee?”

“Oh. Right, your medic said you needed to cut back.”

Roche straightened slowly, frowning at Iorveth. “I’m working on it. But for now,  _ where’s the coffee?” _

“I didn’t buy any,” Iorveth shrugged. “You want tea?”

Roche froze. Surely he’d heard that wrong.  _ Surely  _ he had heard that wrong, because if Iorveth just said that he  _ hadn’t bought coffee,  _ then Roche was gonna go apeshit.

“You… didn’t buy any coffee,” he repeated slowly. “How – why? I need my fucking coffee!”

“Calm down,” Iorveth rolled his eyes. “Part of  _ why _ PT thinks you need to cut back is because your blood pressure is too high, and it can’t be good for your heart.”

“Oh and  _ you _ know what’s good for my heart!?” Roche snarled, a headache already pulsing behind his left temple. 

Iorveth blinked, taken aback, then frowned. “I think I know  _ something _ about it.”

“If you did, then you wouldn’t take away my  _ fucking coffee!” _

“And maybe if you actually listened to your medic, you wouldn’t be so dependent on it in the first place!” Iorveth snapped back.

“What the fuck do you care what I’m dependent on!?” Roche yelled. “And I’m not fucking dependent!”

“Great!” Iorveth roared, “then you can go one fucking day without coffee!”

Go a day without coffee? The idea just did not compute. He  _ needed _ his coffee, he had so much work to do and his brain was sluggish and his head fucking hurt and he was so fucking  _ furious _ that Iorveth apparently decided that he knew what was best for Roche, and fuck that.

“Look,” Iorveth held out his hands, “it’s just coffee, Vernon. Have some tea. It’ll be better for your health and–”

“What the fuck do you care about my health? It’s my fucking life!”

“Well, for reasons escaping me at the moment,” Iorveth grit his teeth, clearly trying to refrain from yelling, “I’m rather invested in you staying alive.”

“Why!? I’ll die before you anyway, so what fucking difference does it make when it is!?  _ I,  _ on the other hand, have to  _ live _ this fucking miserable life and the one fucking thing that makes it worth living is my motherfucking  _ coffee!” _

His shout echoed around the room and Iorveth looked like he’d been struck, and the angry, violent part of him wanted to actually do it.

But dammit, when they fought physically, they were on equal ground. Now? Now Roche felt about two seconds from blowing up and  _ hitting something,  _ and he knew that if he  _ didn’t  _ want that something to be Iorveth, he needed to leave now. Slamming the front door was nowhere near as satisfying as he’d hoped, and neither was the kick he aimed at it before stomping off.

He was steaming with fury and he needed to get  _ away,  _ needed to get somewhere  _ safe,  _ where he could let off some tension and cool off. With that in mind, he made a beeline for the best brothel in Vizima: The Clarabelle. 

* * *

There was ringing in Iorveth’s ear, and it was only too late that he thought to follow Vernon, and by then, the man had disappeared down the street. Iorveth looked around desperately and spotted an older man he vaguely recognized as one of their neighbors.

“Excuse me,” he called. “Did you happen to see a man run out of here a moment ago? Do you know which way he went?”

The old man sent him a scandalized look and Iorveth abruptly realized that he was only wearing Vernon’s robe and slippers. His face and ears flushed, but he cleared his throat. “Please. I need to find him.”

“Oh, Roche? Not to worry, lad, he’s just headed to the Clarabelle.”

“How do you know that?”

“He  _ always _ goes to the Clarabelle when he’s upset,” the old man shrugged. “Me, personally, I’d rather find a nice garden or lake to brood by, but that’s kids for you, eh?”

Iorveth swallowed, a foreboding sense of doom crawling up his spine. “What is the Clarabelle?”

“Oh, you’ve not heard of it?” he looked surprised. “It’s a brothel. The neighborhood is an absolute shithole, but I swear, you’ll never find a nicer fuck.”

“Oh,” Iorveth heard himself say, feeling disconnected from his body. A brothel? Vernon had screamed at him about  _ coffee,  _ of all things, and then run straight to a  _ brothel? _

Was he really that bad? Iorveth wrapped his hands around his stomach and pretended that they were Vernon’s. 

But the cold deep in his chest remained, and Vernon had  _ always _ melted it before. 

Hardly aware of anything around him, Iorveth returned to the house, falling back to lean against the door and slowly crumple to the ground.

Why? Why would Vernon go to a  _ brothel _ after fighting with him? Why would Vernon get so worked up over coffee in the first place!?

And the things he’d said… did Vernon really find his life so miserable? Things had been stressful lately, sure, but Iorveth had thought – well, he’d thought that  _ he _ made Vernon happy.

Apparently he’d been wrong. 

Iorveth wasn’t sure when he’d started crying, but it came upon him all at once like a flood. He gasped in great sobbing breaths and tried not to wail with pain. He’d really thought that – that they were  _ something.  _ That they  _ could _ be something. 

Had he really been so wrong? Was Vernon just – just wasting time with him? Is that why Vernon said – said–

Iorveth clutched at his hair and wept.

* * *

It was dark by the time that Roche returned to the house. He hadn’t actually managed to get much work done, but he’d still felt like he  _ had _ to try when he’d left the Clarabelle. After he’d gotten his coffee.

His headache had evaporated with each sip, and okay, maybe Iorveth had a point about the dependency thing, but  _ really,  _ who cared? He was just trying to fucking stay afloat here and he sure as fuck needed coffee to do it. Because even with staying late, the flurry of tasks that still needed done was overwhelming and frankly, Roche wanted to die at the thought of attempting to handle it without coffee.

He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t. Not even for Iorveth.

Biting his lip, he wondered what would greet him when he opened the door. He’d totally blown up at Iorveth and it wasn’t right. He still felt angry about the coffee, about Iorveth just deciding to make him quit. But that didn’t excuse the things he’d said. 

Which was why he was scared. Because they’d been together for a few months now, but they’d never had a fight like this before, and he was terrified they wouldn’t recover. Because he  _ did _ want Iorveth in his life, dammit, and even if that wasn’t possible, Iorveth deserved an apology. A good one.

If he were smart, Roche would’ve rehearsed what to say. And he’d tried, he  _ had.  _ But his brain was so exhausted from work that he could barely string words together in the right order, and it just… hadn’t happened. So, as he unlocked the front door, he sent a prayer to Melitele that his ability to wing it would be up to snuff. And that he wouldn’t make things worse.

The door swung open to a dark house and he frowned. Iorveth should have been home by now. Had something happened? Had he  _ left!? _

Heart suddenly pounding frantically, Roche rushed to light the candles around the room. He needed to see if Iorveth’s stuff was still here, if Iorveth had decided enough was enough, if Iorveth had run away.

Iorveth was nowhere in the room, but on the table, a bag of coffee sat like an accusation hitting true. He’d actually stopped to buy his own so that they wouldn’t have a repeat of this, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was, he’d screamed at Iorveth and Iorveth had still gone and bought him coffee. Even though the elf thought he should quit. Even though Iorveth might have  _ left. _

Roche swallowed back tears, rushing into the bedroom with a candle held aloft. The empty bed felt like a blow to the chest, but as he looked frantically around, he finally spotted the elf. Somehow that made it even worse.

Iorveth was curled up in the corner like he was expecting an attack. And why wouldn’t he? Roche had attacked before with, from Iorveth’s perspective, no cause. Sure, he’d refrained from getting physical, but gods knew he understood how much words could hurt.

Iorveth’s green eye was fixed on him warily, and Roche felt like he was going to cry. Everything they’d developed together – their friendship, their blossoming romance – he’d ruined all of it with just a handful of words.

Iorveth had been so concerned for his health, and for what? So he could go and destroy it all? Idly wishing he’d just let the job kill him, Roche licked his lips and crept forward slowly, stopping when he was a sword’s distance away from Iorveth and kneeling down. Then he took a deep breath and gave winging it a go.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that and shouldn’t have lashed out. I’m so sorry, Iorveth.”

He could feel his eyes filling with tears and he tried to swallow them back again. He didn’t want Iorveth to think he was seeking pity. He just… he’d hurt Iorveth. A lot. It made him want to curl up and either die or cry. Possibly both. He  _ deserved _ both.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Iorveth’s voice was flat and tired and formal in a way it hadn’t been in so long. Gods, he’d fucked up so badly. “So what are you going to do to not do that again?”

Roche blinked. “I – I don’t know,” he realized. “I – I didn’t mean to in the first place. But that doesn’t… really help.”

Iorveth blinked slowly, gaze still hard and wary. 

“I – I was scared you’d left,” he admitted in a whisper. 

“I’m still considering it,” Iorveth murmured.

The instant stab of panic at that was tempered slightly by the fact that Iorveth very clearly was not planning to move any time soon. He let that give him hope that Iorveth  _ wanted _ to stay. If he could just get this apology right, maybe… maybe there was still a chance.

Roche shifted to sit on the ground, still about three feet away from Iorveth, a wholly defensible distance. “I – I  _ want _ to want to quit for you. But, Iorveth, I  _ can’t.  _ I don’t – there’s too much. I  _ can’t.” _ How could he explain this feeling to Iorveth? The coffee was the  _ only thing _ letting him work and there was so much work and he just – he  _ couldn’t _ give it up.

* * *

Iorveth didn’t respond for a long minute of silence, still staring at Vernon. “There’s a reason your medic is worried about you.”  _ There’s a reason  _ I’m _ worried about you,  _ he couldn’t say. Better to keep it impersonal. He still hadn’t decided what to do, after all. And frankly, he wasn’t really in a state where he could think about that. Not yet. Maybe not for a while. 

Gods, he wished he could just curl up in Vernon’s arms and  _ sleep.  _ But he couldn’t. It wasn’t safe anymore, not if Vernon could lash out at him like that at the drop of a dime. 

“Why are you so concerned about my health?” Vernon asked quietly. “You’ve been doing it for a while now. Commenting on my food, talking with PT, worrying about my heart… why?”

Iorveth shot him a disbelieving look. Was he serious? Why  _ wouldn’t  _ Iorveth be concerned about Vernon’s health!? Sure, Vernon was quite fit and active for his age, but he was under so much stress and he drank so much coffee and frankly, he wasn’t exactly young for a human. And Iorveth wanted – he wanted – “why wouldn’t I want to be with you for as long as possible?” he whispered. 

Vernon blinked. “I – oh.”

“Why are  _ you _ so dependent on coffee?” Iorveth dared to ask. If Vernon was going to blow up again, may as well be sooner rather than later. 

“I – there’s  _ so much to do,  _ Iorveth.”

The sheer desperation in Vernon’s eyes only increased Iorveth’s worry. “Then get  _ help.  _ You don’t have to do everything alone, Vernon.”

The way Vernon looked lost made him want to bundle the man up in a hug and never let go. Instead, he curled his fingers into a fist and tried not to think about it. 

“I – I’ll try.” Vernon promised, then looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Will you stay?”

Would he? There was still one thing he had to know.

“Why the fuck did you go to a brothel?” That came out more accusatory than he’d been aiming for, but really. He broke Iorveth’s heart and then went to go have a nice fuck? Seriously?

“What?” Vernon blinked, genuine confusion on his face. “Wh – oh. Oh no, I didn’t – um. My mom. Works there.”

Now Iorveth was the one gobsmacked. “You have a  _ mom!?” _

They’d been friends for at least a year now, and together the last few months, and Vernon had  _ never _ mentioned a mother, much less one that lived in the city!

There was a sharp rap on the front door that made them both jump, and Iorveth couldn’t help the way he flinched back, even as he cursed himself for being so jumpy and  _ obvious.  _ But dammit, he’d been attacked in his home where he hadn’t been expecting it and that  _ hurt.  _ How could he trust that it wouldn’t happen again?

“I’ll, um… I’ll go get it,” Vernon said, rising to his feet with a groan and striding out of the room.

Iorveth heard the door open, then he heard their guest loudly coo, “oh, darling!”

There was a sudden roaring in Iorveth’s ears and he couldn’t hear anything else that was said, but all he could think was that Vernon had told some whore how to get to  _ their home.  _ The one they shared together. The one Iorveth was fastly becoming determined to leave, because  _ what the fuck!? _

His fury drove him to his feet, and he made it halfway to the door before stalling out. So he stuffed two knives up his sleeve and then continued out to show Vernon  _ exactly _ what he thought about this.

The first thing Iorveth noticed about the woman was that she was  _ beautiful.  _ Because of  _ course  _ she was, what else would Iorveth’s replacement be? 

The second thing he noticed was the phallic jewelry. Was it just him or were there tiny human dicks and balls hanging from her ears!?

“How  _ dare _ you bring her  _ here,” _ Iorveth growled, and the woman visibly jumped.

“Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t tell me you weren’t alone. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Iorveth forced his lips into a polite, mocking smile. “I was just  _ leaving.” _

“What?” Vernon yelped and grabbed his wrist. “No, wait, please! This isn’t – she’s my  _ mom.” _

Halfway through forming a threat about what he would do to the fingers on him if they didn’t remove themselves, Iorveth felt suddenly like the floor had dropped out from under him. “Your… mom?”

The woman in question tilted her head, looking between them. “Are you… living together?” She sounded genuinely shocked, though Iorveth couldn’t really see why. “I mean, the way you talk about him, I was sure you were fucking, but  _ living together!?  _ Vernon, what have you neglected to tell me?”

Vernon blushed bright red. “I didn’t know what to say,” he mumbled.

Well, that filled Iorveth with great confidence that he hadn’t just been wasting time with Iorveth. 

“You’ve never mentioned having a mother,” he heard himself point out, still glaring at the woman.

She seemed unintimidated, and admittedly, Iorveth was a little impressed. Instead, she assessed him with a look and pursed her lips.

Great. Was he about to hear how awful he was from the mother of the man he lo –  _ thought _ he loved?

“Why don’t we all sit down and have some tea, hmm? Maybe sort out a few misunderstandings?” The woman – Vernon’s  _ mother _ – held her hands out beseechingly and her smile was so endearing that Iorveth almost found himself agreeing, but–

“I don’t have the brain space to deal with this today,” Iorveth groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He very deliberately hadn’t pulled out of Vernon’s grip yet, though he was certainly debating it.

Vernon licked his lips. “Please. Let’s talk. I – I don’t want you to leave.”

Iorveth stared into his eyes, searching for – what? Any sign of deceit? A reason to stay?

His eyes held so much emotion that Iorveth couldn’t figure out  _ what _ he was seeing, but that Vernon was invested was clear. And it wasn’t like Iorveth had anywhere to go. In his time in Vizima, he may have befriended all the animals in their neighborhood while playing music at the park, but he hadn’t exactly developed the kinds of relationships with the  _ people _ that he would need to stay with them. But if he left the city, he could always sleep in a tree. Or maybe the one at the park…

“Please,” Vernon repeated. “Just – let’s have some coffee and talk.”

Iorveth opened his mouth to object to coffee on principle – and then remembered the desperate way Vernon had claimed to need it. 

Besides, if this morning was an example of what Vernon was like without coffee, he would much prefer this conversation include it.

He nodded the tiniest bit and the relief on Vernon’s face soothed some of the hurt in his chest. Vernon squeezed his wrist and then let go. “I’ll make the coffee.”

Iorveth’s wrist felt cold without Vernon’s warm hand around it. He took a deep breath and slowly turned to the sitting area, never exposing his back to the woman.

She tapped long nails against the table for a moment and then said, “I’m Eliza. Since my son didn’t deign to introduce us.”

“Iorveth,” he grunted.

She hummed. “You look better than in your wanted posters.”

“Uh… thank you?” Frowning, he thought about that. Part of it, of course, was that wanted posters were notoriously bad at capturing likenesses. But some of it was also that in these past months living with Vernon, he’d – well, he’d gained weight and lounged around the park playing music. He probably looked healthy and rested for the first time in a century.

Could he really walk away from this if he didn’t like what Vernon said? He’d – honestly, he’d become rather  _ content _ with the domestic life he had. And the other half of that domesticity was bustling around the kitchen, preparing coffee for all of them. 

Gods, he’d managed to become a domesticated elf. How absurd was that? But Vernon had encouraged him to do what he loved, and what he’d loved was making Vernon happy. 

But Vernon hadn’t  _ been _ happy, had he? What had he said earlier? ‘I have to live this fucking miserable life and the one fucking thing that makes it worth living is my coffee’? How much misery had Iorveth been blind to?

China rattled as Vernon served them all coffee and Iorveth longed to wrap his hands around Vernon’s shaking ones. But he also wasn’t sure that he  _ wanted _ to, not really. Not when he still felt so hurt and betrayed and heartsick.

Iorveth didn’t even  _ like _ coffee. But having something to do with his hands was a godsend, and cupping the mug, warmth seeping into his skin, gave him something to look at, too.

“So,” Eliza began. “You’re living with the formerly most wanted elf in the north?” There was a razor’s edge in her voice that threatened to cut and Iorveth was suddenly glad that she seemed focused on scolding her son.

Vernon gulped his coffee. “I didn’t tell you about him ‘cause I knew you’d make fun of me,” he muttered, face flushing.

Iorveth blinked. What the fuck did  _ that _ mean?

“And you thought  _ not _ telling me was the solution?”

“...yes?”

Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you think now, Vernon?”

“I – look, he was living in  _ trees,  _ Mom. So obviously I was gonna offer shelter. And that’s all it was at first really, so I didn’t think to mention it. And then it started to become  _ our _ home and it seemed too late to say anything?”

Eliza’s nails clinked against the cup. “You are an absolute idiot,” she told her son frankly.

She was satisfied with that? Seriously? Sure, something warm had swelled in Iorveth’s chest when Vernon had declared it  _ their _ home, but still!

“Why did you never mention your mother?”

“It never came up! Fuck, Iorveth, all the intel on you never identifies a family. I didn’t want to be insensitive or something!”

They stared at Vernon for a long minute in disbelieving silence. But ultimately Vernon’s mom wasn’t the issue. The coffee was. And hell, if he was stuck having this conversation anyway, he may as well go all in. 

“Why can’t you quit drinking coffee? What makes life so miserable that you can’t stand it without coffee?” 

Eliza made a surprised, but he kept his focus on Vernon, who looked suddenly hunted. 

“I – what do you expect me to say? I’m trying to build a fucking country and there’s too much to do and not enough time or money or equipment and the nobles are all trying to cut each other’s throats and who knows when Nilfgaard is going to try something and–”

When Vernon started looking visibly distressed, Iorveth had to reach out and touch his wrist. “Why didn’t you ever say?”

“Why the fuck would I voluntarily talk about work? It’s – I hate it, Iorveth. But it has to be done and everyone else is busy stabbing each other in the back and Velen is still in the middle of a famine and–”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Eliza cut him off, reaching out and patting Vernon’s other wrist. 

Vernon just stared at them blankly, as if that had never occurred to him, and Iorveth cursed himself for getting so caught up in domesticity that he missed everything going on with Vernon.

“You’re not gonna insist on quitting coffee?” Vernon asked him suspiciously.

Iorveth shook his head. “If the coffee is what’s helping you manage, then first we fix the problem. Then we can worry about addiction.”

Something in Vernon’s shoulders relaxed and he twisted his hand so that their fingers entwined. “You’re staying then?” Vernon whispered.

“I want to,” Iorveth answered honestly. “I don’t think I can make a decision on that tonight.”

At Vernon’s crestfallen expression, he squeezed their hands together. “Let’s take it a day at a time.” Glancing at Eliza, he licked his lips and said, “I’m sorry I took away your coping mechanism.”

“Y’ didn’t know,” Vernon mumbled, squeezing back.

“All right, well,” Eliza cleared her throat, placing her untouched coffee cup back in the saucer. “I apologize for interrupting something clearly difficult. And we  _ will _ be speaking more about this Vernon. All of it. But in the meantime, it was nice to meet you, Iorveth. I hope we will come to know each other well.”

Her smile resembled a shark’s and Iorveth swallowed. “Nice to meet you.”

She rose to her feet, but waved them back when they tried to stand. “Oh, don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.” Leaning over the table, she kissed Vernon’s forehead. “Be kind to yourself, darling. It’s okay to need help.” She patted his cheek and pulled back. “I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon and we can figure out how to alleviate your workload, all right?”

“Thanks, Mom,” Vernon smiled weakly.

“Anytime, darling. I hope you know that.” Then, with a final wink, Eliza walked out the front door and they were left alone.

“So… that’s your mother.”

“Yeah.”

“Somehow that explains a lot.”

Vernon snorted. “C’mon, let’s go to bed. We can talk more tomorrow, when we’re both feeling up to it.”

Iorveth hummed, raising an eyebrow. “Will you even be able to sleep? You just drank coffee.”

“Right now, I could sleep through a herd of fiends,” Vernon yawned. “Are you,” he hesitated, biting his lip. “Are you okay with sharing a bed?”

Iorveth thought about it critically. On the one hand, the chances of having nightmares tonight were pretty high for both of them, and startling old soldiers in their sleep was never a good move. On the other hand, all he really wanted right now was for Vernon to hold him as they tried to convince themselves they could do this.

“Yeah. If you are.”

Vernon visibility hesitated before stepping close and cupping Iorveth’s cheek, clearly telegraphing his movements. Iorveth hated that he was grateful he could see it coming so that he could hide the instinctual flinch at the touch.

“Honestly, all I want in the world is to hold you and try not to think.”

Iorveth’s lips twitched upwards. “I think that can be arranged.”

Vernon’s small smile felt as bright as a thousand suns. “Guess we’d better get up then.”

“Mmm, we’ll deal with the dishes in the morning,” Iorveth decided. 

Vernon hummed in agreement and together, they rose and retired to bed, holding each other close.

**Author's Note:**

> And some time later Iorveth somehow convinces Roche to actually retire and leave governing to people with energy while they get to be old men together.


End file.
